Female Loathing in Las Midlands 1
Peter O'Phile Note:
This is intended to be the first in a series of studies into female behaviour under the influence of alcohol.
I fear there will be no answers or ultimate solutions here, but such is life.
One of our greatest drinking performances ever was KP's birthday, November, 2003. One day I may share the other events of this day, those that I both remember and can safely write about without immediate arrest and incarceration, that is. One such event provides our first example of FDI (female drink insanity) in Nottingham. It transpired in our favourite late night haunt, sometime approaching late night.
Myself and GB, taking a leisurely stance against a wall near the bar were discussing the ethics of modern art's approach to death or similar when we were approached by a young lady, we'll call her MB as I don't know her name. The approach in itself was unusual, not in it's nature but in it's occurrence. Neither myself nor GB are what you would call 'attractive people' especially when obviously drunk. The conversation flowed a little like this:
MB: Where's my bag? Can you help me look for my bag?
GB: Lady, I haven't seen your bag.
MB: I've lost my bag. Where's my bag (looking under drinks rest along wall)
GB+PO'P: ...
MB: (Somewhat agitated) Where's my bag? What have you done with my bag?
GB: I haven't got your fucking bag.
PO'P: I'm here with the bag. For the eels...The badger...
MB: I cant find my bag...
GB+PO'P: (Look around aimlessly, pretending to assist.)
MB: (Very agitated) What have you done with my bag? Where's my bag?
At this point, I knelt down to look on the floor hoping this madwoman would either go away or I could find the bag and save the day.
There was no bag.
SMASH!
The mirror on the wall above me fell to the ground next to and around me. It had also arranged itself into much smaller, more attractive pieces. MB had thrown a drink at it, in an attempt to locate her wayward bag. I don't think it worked, as a bouncer quickly arrived and removed her, sans bag. She continued shouting insults about us, bag thieves and bags in general. I sensed she had been spurned by a bag before. I decided to help by picking up the pieces or wet, broken mirror. Somehow avoiding serious injury I was relieved of my duties by the bar staff - "No Peter, leave the mirror there" was their kindly chant. The night, and the drinking continued...
Peter O'Phile Note:
I lost my beloved leather coat in similar fashion in this very bar a few months later. Sadly there was no mirror to smash thanks to MB, and I was forced to walk home in the mid-december cold wearing a t-shirt. This was also the night I fell into a watery ditch, which can wait for another, colder time.
This is intended to be the first in a series of studies into female behaviour under the influence of alcohol.
I fear there will be no answers or ultimate solutions here, but such is life.
One of our greatest drinking performances ever was KP's birthday, November, 2003. One day I may share the other events of this day, those that I both remember and can safely write about without immediate arrest and incarceration, that is. One such event provides our first example of FDI (female drink insanity) in Nottingham. It transpired in our favourite late night haunt, sometime approaching late night.
Myself and GB, taking a leisurely stance against a wall near the bar were discussing the ethics of modern art's approach to death or similar when we were approached by a young lady, we'll call her MB as I don't know her name. The approach in itself was unusual, not in it's nature but in it's occurrence. Neither myself nor GB are what you would call 'attractive people' especially when obviously drunk. The conversation flowed a little like this:
MB: Where's my bag? Can you help me look for my bag?
GB: Lady, I haven't seen your bag.
MB: I've lost my bag. Where's my bag (looking under drinks rest along wall)
GB+PO'P: ...
MB: (Somewhat agitated) Where's my bag? What have you done with my bag?
GB: I haven't got your fucking bag.
PO'P: I'm here with the bag. For the eels...The badger...
MB: I cant find my bag...
GB+PO'P: (Look around aimlessly, pretending to assist.)
MB: (Very agitated) What have you done with my bag? Where's my bag?
At this point, I knelt down to look on the floor hoping this madwoman would either go away or I could find the bag and save the day.
There was no bag.
SMASH!
The mirror on the wall above me fell to the ground next to and around me. It had also arranged itself into much smaller, more attractive pieces. MB had thrown a drink at it, in an attempt to locate her wayward bag. I don't think it worked, as a bouncer quickly arrived and removed her, sans bag. She continued shouting insults about us, bag thieves and bags in general. I sensed she had been spurned by a bag before. I decided to help by picking up the pieces or wet, broken mirror. Somehow avoiding serious injury I was relieved of my duties by the bar staff - "No Peter, leave the mirror there" was their kindly chant. The night, and the drinking continued...
Peter O'Phile Note:
I lost my beloved leather coat in similar fashion in this very bar a few months later. Sadly there was no mirror to smash thanks to MB, and I was forced to walk home in the mid-december cold wearing a t-shirt. This was also the night I fell into a watery ditch, which can wait for another, colder time.
posted by Peter O'Phile at
7:45 pm
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